large, and we may say that the new Agnosticism is but old Atheism
written larger--and more respectably. Agnosticism is the cuckoo of
philosophy. It appropriates the nest of another bird, turns it out in
the cold, and even adopts its progeny. All the time-honored positions
of Atheism--man's finity and nature's infinity, the relativity of human
knowledge, the reign of law, and so forth--are quietly monopolised
by this intruder, who looks upon the object he has despoiled as the
Christian looked upon the Jew after borrowing his God. Yet in England,
the classic land of mental timidity and compromise, Agnosticism is
almost fashionable, while poor Atheism is treated with persecution or
obloquy. Elsewhere, especially in France, we find a different condition
of things. A French sceptic no more hesitates to call himself an Atheist
than to call himself a Republican. May it not be, therefore, that the
difference between Agnosticism and Atheism is one of temperament? We
might illustrate this theory by appealing to examples. Darwin was
an Agnostic, Professor Clifford an Atheist. Or, if we turn to pure
literature, we may instance Matthew Arnold and Algernon Swinburne.
Arnold, the Agnostic, says that "most of what now passes with us for
religion and philosophy will be replaced by poetry." Swinburne, the
Atheist, exclaims "Thou art smitten, thou God, thou art smitten, thy
death is upon thee O Lord."

This brings out the cardinal--we might say the _only_ distinction
between Atheism and Agnosticism. The Agnostic is a timid Atheist, and
the Atheist a courageous Agnostic. John Bull is infuriated by the red
cloak of Atheism, so the Agnostic dons a brown cloak with a red lining.
Now and then a sudden breeze exposes a bit of the fatal red, but
the garment is promptly adjusted, and Bull forgets the irritating
phenomenon.

Mr. Harrison says "the Agnostic is one who protests against any dogma
respecting Creation at all, and who deliberately takes his stand on
ignorance." We cannot help saying that this differences him from the
Atheist. Seeing that we cannot solve infinite problems, that we know
nothing, and apparently _can_ know nothing, of God or the supernatural,
the Atheist has always regarded religious dogmas as blind guesses,
which, according to the laws of chance, are in all probability wrong;
and as these blind guesses have almost invariably been associated with
mental tyranny and moral perversion, he has regarded theology as the foe
of